


The First and The Last

by avyssoseleison



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Assumed Character Death (Castiel), Bottom Dean, Dubious Morality, Everybody Loves Dean, Explicit Sexual Content, Grief/Mourning, Impending Death, M/M, Something Like Infidelity, Top Jimmy, Unrequited Love, Using and Being Used
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 12:57:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2025936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avyssoseleison/pseuds/avyssoseleison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jimmy has lived (more or less) through many last nights on earth, but always through the dampening existence of Castiel. With the angel being driven out of his vessel, though, he remains alone with the Winchesters - more specifically Dean, with whom Castiel had shared a life-affirming tradition for situations like this for some time now. Jimmy wants to continue this tradition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First and The Last

**Author's Note:**

> A big thanks to [perlukafari](http://perlukafari.tumblr.com/) for beta-ing this story! ♥

Last night on earth, and Jimmy wasn't even surprised anymore.

At some point during the time he had been worn by an angel, he had come to pretty much expect the end of the world at any given day. It was difficult to be an optimist when having gone through so much shit already: an apocalypse here, the angel riding him gone dark side there, some biblical monsters wanting to snack on the humans as well – it was something you got used to eventually. But things were slightly different now, because as much as Jimmy had been present during all those things, he had only seen and felt everything through a veil, half-asleep and dazed through his whole remaining existence. It was fine, really, even if there had been some days he had wanted to be able to take action and be more than a voice in the back of Castiel's head, but all in all, he was satisfied. He got to see all corners of the earth and the universe, listen to the songs of the heavenly choir, aid in healing children and the unfortunate, hunt creatures of the night and of hell, mostly save the world, fly high above any plane of existence he could ever have imagined, and he got to touch Dean.

Due to Cas being an integral part of himself – while he was no part of Castiel, damn angel –, he knew all about their 'profound bond', ever since the beginning of it. Whereas Castiel had been mostly amazed and completely overwhelmed by the blinding soul packed into a hurting yet beautiful human body such as Dean's and had felt what he had thought to be simple awe at his father's creation, he had soon come to feel different sensations about the Righteous Man. Irritation, mostly, but then had come those thoughts about what it would be like to breach their small distance, to touch Dean and to get touched in return, to kiss him and fill him with himself and to make him feel bliss where he was usually so pained and full of doubt. Jimmy knew the angel had been confused by those thoughts, and ashamed once he understood the carnality of them, but he had been helpless before them, because even if he had tried to suppress them, they always returned, stronger than before. Jimmy had tried to tell him about how natural it was to feel this way, especially about someone Castiel himself had retrieved from hell and built back into his gorgeous human form, but Castiel had felt all the more ashamed, as if he should have been able to withstand those desires even more because of the beauty of Dean and his soul.

Things had changed with their first last night on earth, and what a thing to say. Dean, scared, although he didn't show it but the angel and Jimmy felt it, had come to Cas, slightly drunk and flirting and winking and with hot words on his lips, and all of that hadn't even been necessary because Cas had been a goner anyway. Castiel had been eager to comfort Dean with his vessel, finally getting to taste his lovely human, and what a marvel it had been when Dean was just as enthusiastic and giving. 

The next day, Castiel and Jimmy had been obliterated, completely eradicated from any and all planes there ever were, and just a moment later, it seemed, they both blinked back into existence. 

Thus started the circle of many last nights and opportunities to hold Dean, which made the pretty much guaranteed death afterwards absolutely worth it. Both Castiel and Jimmy were never scared to face off their maybe final death if it meant to be able to press kisses onto warm and freckled skin.

Jimmy felt bad about it, in a way, because he knew that for him and Castiel, there was a difference. Castiel loved Dean, in every way possible and with every fiber of his being, and Jimmy simply enjoyed being made love to by proxy and knowing that Castiel, whom he himself had come to care for, was being made to feel good and that his feelings seemed to be returned if only for those nights. Because they never had sex if death wasn't imminent and Dean wasn't tipsy and probably thinking about how their having sex might be a mistake, but he wouldn't live to feel guilty. Jimmy knew how much it hurt Castiel, but still, the angel never shied away from Dean's hands and lips – on some of his dark days, he even wished for an upcoming end of the universe just to get to touch Dean once more. The shame and self-loathing following those thoughts usually soured both his and Jimmy's moods for days on end.

Now, though, Castiel wasn't present anymore. A couple of days ago, Team Free Will had encountered a huge number of angels and witches who had banded together against Castiel. Castiel had stopped long ago trying to take on a leading role in heaven, but it was difficult to simply leave them to fend for themselves as well, so in those times of need, he gave it his best to nudge them into a good direction. It never worked out like he wanted to, of course, because even him being alive was enough to enrage many angels, and so it probably hadn't been difficult to form their group of adversaries. The witches probably only really hated the Winchesters, but that notion was much reciprocated. In any case, things hadn't gone too well, and in the din and confusion of battle, blood was shed and spells were chanted, and Castiel was burnt right out of his vessel. For Jimmy, it was rather unpleasant to come to during a huge fight around him, with the Winchesters nowhere to be seen, but somehow, all of them – except for Castiel, that is – made it out.

Jimmy didn't know whether Castiel was still alive or, well, in existence, and he told the Winchesters as much. The look of pain and fear and anger and betrayal on Dean's face was something Jimmy was well-acquainted with by now, but it was still very unpleasant for him to see. It was also the last time Dean had looked at him, because in the days up until now, Dean had always averted his eyes, if not outright ignored his angel's former vessel. It hurt Jimmy in unknown ways, but he also understood how painful it must have been to have lost Castiel again – and whether he was alive now or not and whether he'd come back or not was not to say. Jimmy himself felt empty and raw, used to Castiel's presence as a veil around him, and Dean's rejection only made it all the worse. 

With Dean's rejection, he had lost that one touchstone of safety and familiarity.

In a way, it was a relief to know that they'd go for their ultimate strike against those wayward angels tomorrow, smoothing the way for Hannah and maybe eternal peace in heaven, with a ritual and sheer willpower, with the immense possibility of dying. More than anything, probably their souls would be ripped from them and into little pieces, along with their bodies themselves, and the familiarity of this was soothing. 

So, last night on earth. Again. And Dean was nowhere to be seen.

Sam had gone and gotten some alcohol about two hours ago, and he and Jimmy had been drinking. Sam was rather buzzed but somber and, with an apology, had gone off to look for another way of doing their ritual. Jimmy assumed he simply wanted some time to himself, maybe to consider his life and everything he'd done, so he had let him go. Dean hadn't been drinking with them from the beginning anyway, only taking a six pack of beer and going off to his room in the bunker. Jimmy probably wouldn't have disturbed him in drinking by himself if he hadn't felt utterly alone with his beer and the lack of Castiel and the knowledge of the tradition that usually accompanied those nights. He wanted to respect Dean's choice to wallow in self-pity and the acceptance that death was what had been coming for him sooner or later many times now, so that it was good if this one was final, but Jimmy didn't like the thought of Dean being lonely and cold any more than being lonely and cold himself. Which was why he had gotten up, went to the hunter's room and entered it after a knock, now standing at the threshold, the door already closed, with Dean sitting on his bed, his eyes a bit glazed-over but still attentive, looking somewhere in the direction of Jimmy, but never into his face.

“What is it, man?” Dean said through clenched teeth.

Jimmy stepped a bit more into the lovingly decorated room. He knew everything about Dean's past, because Castiel knew everything about it, and he appreciated that Dean had finally had a room for himself. Even if he have one for much longer. “I was worried.”

“Yeah, well, who isn't? We're all gonna die tomorrow, so it'd be a bit weird not to be.”

“I know.” He couldn't help his eyes roaming over the slightly hunched form of Dean, an empty beer bottle in his hands, the other bottles piled at the side of his bed. “That's why Sam is looking for maybe another possibility right now. Even though I suspect he wanted some time for himself.”

“Can't blame him, same as me,” Dean bit out in a manner that said _so now kindly fuck off._ But Jimmy didn't.

“He left me alone,” he stated, and he knew that the meaning of his words, that he wasn't only speaking about Sam but also about that literally God forsaken angel, too, was clear to Dean.

Dean said nothing, only fastened his grip around the bottle in his hands.

“I feel lonely,” Jimmy said so softly and lowly and reminiscent of Castiel that it must have been a bit unfair to Dean, but he couldn't feel bad about using his voice that way when Dean finally looked up to him, slightly shaken and frowning.

“Look, Jimmy, I don't know what you think you're doing but–“

“I know, Dean,” he interrupted, “I know about you and Castiel and your tradition.” As expected, pain flashed over Dean's worn-out features. “And I don't wanna impose, but as much as he and you probably have gotten used to it, I have as well.”

“So what? You think you can come in here and fuck me because he's not here? 's that it? Because you happen to look alike?” Dean spouted, getting off his bed and all up Jimmy's face with a quick stride. “Don't you have a fucking wife?”

For a moment, Jimmy pressed his lips into a tight line. “I don't think Amelia would even want me back if I somehow survived this. I loved her, love her, but it's different now.”

“Yeah? So you think just 'cause you don't have any problems fucking another one, I wouldn't either? That I'm a good little slut who's gonna give it up for you because you remind me of Cas?”

That angered Jimmy, much less out of defense for himself, but because having these kind of derogatory thoughts was utterly impossible. But that wasn't the point, he knew, and Dean wasn't completely wrong, either – he knew that he wanted to, in fact, take advantage of his looks, because he knew that he was barely more than a stranger to Dean, one he could easily project his emotions about Castiel on, whereas Jimmy wanted to continue their tradition, to feel Dean like he usually did. To take away both their fear and loneliness, if only for a moment. He was a selfish bastard for it, that much was clear. He also knew that Dean wouldn't appreciate any mentions of Jimmy having come to appreciate him, not just the tradition of a last round of sex itself, that he'd call it creepy and get even angrier.

“I think Castiel would want this as well.”

Dean huffed out a hard laugh. “Real fucking easy there, Jimmy.”

“I know how he felt about your last nights, Dean. About his relief to distract for a moment at least, about how you enjoyed the sex. But even if you and him hadn't done it, if you'd had gone out and had sex with someone else, he'd have been okay as long as you found some kind of pleasure. He would never have begrudged you the touch of another.”

“'He would never have begrudged you the touch of another'? What you doing, Jimmy, trying to speak like Cas so I forgot about how you're not him? Maybe do that trick with your voice again, makes it easier. And then put on the trench, too, maybe then we're talking.”

“Dean.”

“And while you're on it, keep on staring at me like you're fucking trying to gaze into my soul or some shit. Oh, and maybe doing something really stupid would help you keep up the illusion. Like trying to kill a witch that’s trying to kill me while fucking yourself over in the meantime.” Jimmy blinked. He hadn't noticed that that had been the reason for what had happened to Castiel. “And don't forget to fucking _leave._ Never fucking stay, always fucking leave. Don't forget to say shit to me about love and then–“

Dean's eyes were shining now and his hand shot up as if he wanted to punch Jimmy in the face, but instead of doing so, he froze in the air, staring at Jimmy, searching in his features and his face for someone long gone. Jimmy gently grasped his wrist and put it down. He didn't want to see Dean like this, wanted to take away his pain as much as Castiel always wanted to, because it was terrible to know that someone with a soul as brilliant as Dean's was hurting so much. With his thumb, he rubbed little circles into the soft skin of his wrist.

“I'm sorry, Dean, I shouldn't have–“

“Fuck me, Jimmy,” Dean whispered, but instead of saying it as an insult, his closed eyes and averted face made clear that this was a demand. Jimmy blinked.

“You're not serious about this.”

“Do I fucking look not serious about this?” He whipped his head around to angrily stare at Jimmy. “I don't even fucking care anymore, alright? Cas is gone, I'll be dead tomorrow anyway, and I'd just really like to be fucked right now. Going out to get someone else is too much of a hassle and I'm really not in the mood for a girl or some random guy who might or might not suck in bed. It's just really like to get fucked by a nice, thick cock I know.”

Jimmy frowned. This was what he had wanted, generally, but he felt bad now. He didn't even know what he had been expecting – Dean not to have this look on his face? He had wanted to comfort him and take comfort in return, but he should have seen it coming that even if Dean thought of him as Cas, he'd only be hurt even more. Because Jimmy could never distract Dean, not while he looked like he did, and he could never give him the same comfort Castiel did. Or had done. Who knew.

“I'm not sure that's a good idea.”

“Not anymore, or what? You've come here wanting to fuck me, now come and fuck me.”

Jimmy swallowed, images of how he had seen Dean getting fucked flashing before his eyes. He knew how Dean sounded, how every inch of him tasted, how he looked in his warm bliss. He wanted to give that to Dean, before they both died. He was sure he'd never make him lose himself as much as Castiel did, but if he only granted him a fraction of that, it was well worth the try.

“Dean...” he whispered, swaying forward, perfectly into Dean's personal space, to put their lips together for that one final time, but Dean took a step back.

“Woah woah woah. No. No kissing, no... no gentle touches or anything. I'm gonna get on the bed, you prep me, you fuck me, we're done. I just want a good nice orgasm before the lights go out. Capiche?”

The words stung, but that was what he was gonna get. It was enough. It was way more than he had bargained for. “I capiche.”

He only noticed their mistake when Dean pressed his eyes close for a second. When he opened them again, they were hard and determined. “Yeah, alright.” Like he had announced, he stepped away from Jimmy to get back on the bed. Instead of sitting on its edge, he got up and onto the middle of it, onto his hands and knees. Jimmy heard him unbuckle his belt and the sound of his zipper, and then he shoved denim and underwear down to his knees, leaving his ass and thighs exposed.

Jimmy felt his mouth go dry. It was a familiar sight, yet at the same time, he had never laid eyes on him like that before – not by himself, not really him, not for him. He felt his cock stir.

“Come on then,” came Dean's impatient voice, somewhat muffled by his position.

Jimmy nodded even though Dean couldn't see and edged closer to the bed, opening his own slacks and getting his half-hard cock out. He suspected Dean wouldn't appreciate him getting any more naked, so he left it at that.

“Do you have any lube, or would you want me to lick you open?” Jimmy asked, a bit breathless. There was nothing quite as beautiful as Dean shattering on a tongue in his ass.

Dean groaned, though if in arousal or annoyance wasn't entirely clear. “No, you're not gonna fucking lick me open. Top drawer. Leave the condoms in there.”

“Of course.” Using a condom wouldn't have made any sense anyway, if only because they were gonna die tomorrow. But that Dean didn't want a barrier between them was a bit unexpected – then again, it would probably be far easier for him to lose himself in thinking Jimmy was Cas if the feeling was exactly the same.

Jimmy quickly got out the lube and got up on the bed, too. He positioned himself behind Dean and took in the delicious sight: the meaty butt, peppered with freckles, absolutely open to his gaze, his pink little hole still clenched and tight until it would be glistening and fucked open. Jimmy never had felt much for men, but Dean was different and delectable in a way only Amelia had ever been. The fact that a man as proud and strong as Dean left himself so open and vulnerable and fucking wanton almost drove Jimmy crazy. He completely understood how Castiel had always come back to him, no matter what.

“Stop staring at me and get it on.” Dean sounded annoyed, of course, but also embarrassed. With that thought in mind, Jimmy opened the bottle of lube and covered his fingers in the slightly cool liquid.

“I will begin now,” Jimmy said, his voice deeper now, but not in an attempt to sound like the angel.

“Then stop talking and do it already.”

“Very well.”

He let the wet tips of his fingers slide over the hole, testing out its give and enjoying how it clenched as if unused to touch and attention – and it was, in a way, because Jimmy was sure that Dean rarely if ever had let another man take him. Which made his submission all the more thrilling, and so he pressed his first finger in.

Dean took it with a soft gasp but no resistance at all. Almost as if hungry, his hole swallowed the finger, no give keeping Jimmy from burying it completely in him

Jimmy felt like praising Dean, like he knew Dean liked even if he had troubles accepting those words, because he was worthy of being told how good he was already and how welcoming, even if they had only just started. Instead, he kept quiet and plunged his finger in and out, easily. God, it was impossible how open Dean was for him, how he only softly whimpered with each passing of the finger. How could anyone who slept with Dean ever not shower him in praise? He was absolutely beautiful.

After enjoying himself with Dean's hole for a few minutes – and he could see now that between his legs, Dean's erection hung as hard and heavy as Jimmy's – he stroked Dean's butt cheek with his free hand. “Think you can take another?”

Dean nodded a bit and made a dazed “Mhhmhhh” sound that made Jimmy wish he was inside him already. But his fingers would have had to do first, so he took out his one finger and plunged back into Dean's hole with two. The way there was still so little resistance and how Dean choked out a moan he obviously couldn't keep inside made it all the harder to keep his hands only where Dean wanted them. Because Jimmy wanted to touch him all over, jack his gorgeous cock, pinch his pink nipples, shove his fingers into his mouth, caress him until he broke apart, because _God,_ was Dean Winchester breathtaking when lost in pleasure.

Damn Castiel for showing him what could be, and then taking it away.

So he had to make do with what he was allowed right now. He really didn't want to complain, though, because even if his touches were limited, it was still a gift, a revelation, to see Dean Winchester naked and writhing on someone's fingers, let alone his own. Jimmy knew that Dean has had shied away from the man aspect of his sexuality for many years, especially when his father had still been alive, but when seeing him like this, it was difficult to think of him as anything but a little bottom always in search for a cock to fill him up good, moaning and whining and just waiting for Jimmy to fuck him open until he couldn't even walk in a straight line anymore.

Dean gasped out in surprise when Jimmy's fingers went harsher inside his body. 

Jimmy smiled.

“Is it good?”

Dean apparently decided to ignore him. His body tensed up a bit, and Jimmy guessed he didn't appreciate the reminder of with whom he was right now too much. But not only did he want to hear a confirmation about this being what Dean liked, with him, but he also didn't want to hurt him. The hunter had this way of being able to grit his teeth through any kind of pain, he had even done so in the past when Castiel had entered him too hastily or had been too rough for it to still be enjoyable, so it seemed prudent to ask.

“Dean?” He removed his fingers from his hole with a wet sound, only lightly tracing the rim of it from the outside. “Is it good?”

Dean growled at that, now actually pissed off that Jimmy had gotten him out of his head space, or maybe he simply disliked stupid questions in moments such as that one. “You damn well know it's _good._ Haven't you seen me getting fucked by– ...I told you what to do. Prep me, fuck me, get lost. Simple as that. No tender shit or anything. Includes talking. Believe me, I'll punch you if you're getting into the weird shit, so just do those three simple steps, man.”

Jimmy couldn't gauge whether he'd actually do that, as there were many pros and cons to take into consideration, but he decided not to find out, if possible. Instead, he slid his fingers back into the wet hole still open and presented to his gaze, drawing another sweet moan out of the hunter.

Yes, if this was truly one of the last moments he'd ever have, he couldn't say he'd die unhappy come tomorrow.

It was almost hypnotic to watch his fingers pumping in and out of Dean, who tried so hard to make no sounds, hiding his face in his arms and lifting his ass even higher, with that kind of desperation that could only exist when in heat or close to death. One last fuck, one last time to say yes to life, with the middle finger lifted as high as his ass. Dean was beautiful even in his defiance of death, even torn at his basest instincts, between the fear of dying and the urge to fuck.

He really did deserve that third finger Jimmy pressed into him without a warning, pushing against those tight muscles until they would, inevitably, yield.

“Fuck,” Dean breathed out, pressing back against Jimmy's hand.

Jimmy smiled and tried to open his fingers that were tightly packed against each other in order to fit into Dean's body, but his hole still fought against it, so he only made small circular motions. It would have been easy to get Dean's entrance lose and ready in only a small amount of time had Jimmy been allowed to use more than his fingers – namely, his tongue. He knew how pliant Dean went whenever Castiel had begun eating him out, so much in fact that the angel using his fingers to stretch him oftentimes seemed more superfluous than anything, because Jimmy was sure he could have fucked Dean just like that, just licked open on his tongue. Sure, it would have been a tight fit, but a fit nonetheless, and if Dean's usual tendencies were anything to go by, he'd probably have enjoyed that bit of pain.

He wasn't allowed, though, so he instead finally managed to open up his fingers a little, giving Dean that bit more of a stretch. Dean gasped and chanted small, “Yeah yeah yeah”s. 

Jimmy pushed his fingers deeper, up to their thick roots, and crooked them, searching for that one bundle of nerves that would have made anything worth it – for Dean, at least. Jimmy had to take some more time to find it than the hunter probably was used to, because it was hard to not stray a bit in his search, to delight in stroking those soft and warm walls all around his fingers – and, in some time, his cock –, but he assumed that it only helped stoking Dean's arousal because as soon as he found his prostate, Dean wailed out a broken, “Cas!”.

He didn't repeat that name when Jimmy, undeterred, continued his attack on his prostate, instead Dean resorted to sobbed out, happy little breaths that were almost obscene in their innocence. Jimmy kept his attention on those, lest his mind not stray on whom Dean had originally called for. 

It didn't keep him from doing so, though.

He knew, of course. He knew. He had known when he had sought out Dean, had relied on him being Castiel's vessel – or former vessel, more like –, but it still made him, if not sad or angry, uncomfortable. He couldn't quite put a finger on what it was exactly that he felt, only that his throat felt a bit tighter and that he had to chastise himself on the inside. If this was not what he had wanted, then he shouldn't have initiated it. But it also brought up his very own longing for Castiel, whom he had come to love, in a different way than Dean did, but whom he still missed. By whom he maybe did wrong this moment, and at the same time, he possibly didn't. He knew that all Castiel had ever wanted was for Dean to be safe and loved, whether it be with Castiel, with Lisa, with any other person; he'd probably be fine with Jimmy giving Dean that small bit of comfort before lunging headfirst into his perdition again, but he still felt wrong about it. Maybe less because of Castiel, but more because of Dean. Dean probably wouldn't have wanted this comfort to be given by Jimmy if there had been any other person more fit – not even speaking of Cas. Just generally. Jimmy was, quite literally, his last choice.

“C'mon, c'mon, do it,” Dean groaned, making small motions as if he was already pushing back against a cock. “ _Fuck me,_ please.”

Jimmy said nothing, instead just retracted his fingers to dig with them into Dean's soft hips – and how terribly adoring was how soft this ruthless hunter wasn't just on the inside, but also the outside – to keep him upright. With his free hand, he grabbed his own cock, guiding it to the pink and waiting hole, and pressed in.

The head popped in easily, almost too easily, as if Dean's body really had yearned to be filled, to experience the lack of emptiness, and it was breathtaking how much it was like Dean's soul, just as giving and aching as his tiny little hole.

Dean let out a soft whimper, thrusting back in impatience. For a moment there it seemed as if he wanted to turn around, to order his angel to go faster, but before he could do so, Jimmy took the hand with which he had guided his cock and grabbed Dean by the nape of his neck with it, pressing his face back into his arms, making him instinctively cant his hips up even better.

His fingers might have been painful, just so, his grip too tight, but Dean moaned even louder and he managed to fully impale himself of the cock shoving into him, and Jimmy couldn't give any more of a damn than Dean did. He groaned, although he tried not to, because he knew his voice was the wrong one for Dean to hear, and he pulled out and roughly slammed himself back into the welcoming body.

He did so a few times, always with the result of having Dean melt into his touch, and after making sure he wouldn't hurt him, he set up a hard rhythm; he knew Dean could take it.

It felt new yet strangely familiar to enter Dean's body. Even if he himself had never actually had sex with him before – or any other man, for that matter – he had watched him and Castiel enough, and Jimmy's body seemed to have internalized the motions and feeling of it. He had loved having sex with Amelia, but his memories of his marriage were blurry and dampened now – the only thing that felt real and right was how tight Dean was, how there only seemed to ever have existed the sight of Dean's strong back and his exposed ass, with the latter being filled well and good to the brim. And Jimmy loved it. Not only because the grip on his cock was that much tighter, but also the pure thought of the person up on his hands and knees and with his ass in the air being Dean made all of this all the more incomprehensible and all the better.

Dean's shirt rode up slightly, exposing more of the skin hidden from Jimmy, the flesh he was forbidden to touch. He heard the head of Dean's cock slapping wetly against his belly, a soft thing made to press kisses into, and the shirt went up a bit higher, what with Jimmy's ministrations shaking Dean's body and putting him into a position that would undoubtedly lead to the shirt slipping even higher, maybe even granting access to Dean's whole back.

Jimmy stroked the hand from Dean's hip in a circle, testing out whether it was alright to move in that area at least. With no protest coming from Dean, he got bolder, feeling out the damp flesh from his lower back, the play of muscles beneath freckled skin, the soft yield when pressing his fingers into it. But he put his hand back, holding Dean in place even more so than before, because he had something different in mind than just letting his hands wander. Mustering up all recklessness he could spare, he bent over and pressed his lips against the skin he had mapped out mere moments ago.

Dean sighed softly, not ceasing in the way he drove himself back onto Jimmy. It wasn't unexpected; Castiel was always affectionate, even when taking him hard, so it was not something that would have made Dean halt in whatever thoughts he had gotten lost in. Even more, Dean began getting a bit louder, a bit clearer, in his little sighs and mumbles, so that accompanying those kisses were very audible moans of, “Yeah, Cas, please. _I need you._ ”

For a moment there, Jimmy was just glad that Dean had gotten to know and love Castiel; despite the sour feeling coming up his own throat right now, he knew that, above all, Dean was a person eager to love and to be loved. That getting kissed and held was what he deserved, far more than a rough little fuck in a back alley. That he had gotten those touches he craved so much and had learned to let his guard down enough to verbally appreciate them, even if only during those last nights, made Jimmy inexplicably happy.

He sucked a small bruise into the meaty side of his hips, his love handles, if you so would, and that seemed to absolutely make Dean come undone. He shoved back harder than before and got even louder.

“Cas, Cas, fuck me, angel, bite me, make me yours.”

Jimmy's teeth grazed over the sensitive skin, leaving the tiniest of welts.

“No!” Dean sounded pissed off now. “Do it right! Bite me like you mean it!”

So Jimmy did; he opened wide and abruptly sank his teeth into his flesh, making Dean almost yelp. Jimmy was sure, had Dean been a woman, he would've been able to feel him get wetter around his cock. As it was, he only became more desperate in his movements.

“Yeah, like that, Cas, angel, again, fuck me.” But his voice broke just the tiniest bit, along with his body slowing down and starting to tremble. “Cas,” he choked out, and Jimmy was afraid he had been unable to remain in his happy thoughts, this illusion of what was actually happening. “Cas, I need you. Cas, _Cas._ ” He swallowed heavily and repeated “I need you” with a voice that was so small that it would have broken the heat of even the strongest man – and surely of the one inside him that moment.

Jimmy was helpless before his own feelings and before Dean, shaken by his moans and sobs and his calls for Castiel, a trembling mess, and he felt like there wasn't even a choice anymore in what to do, because he felt physically incapable of doing anything but shoving his elbow beneath Dean's right knee, forcing him to bend it and draw it closer to his upper body while Jimmy covered the hunter's body with his own, pressing them flush together and tightly into the mattress below them. Dean's knee was almost on the same level as Jimmy's shoulders, held up in an straining angle, because he needed to be able to put his lips onto Dean's damp neck, kiss and suck while forcing his beautiful hunter to give him an even better access to his hole, letting him go that much deeper.

Dean still cried out, half out of his mind with the pleasure and the pain of his feelings, and continued to wail for his angel while desperately pushing back against the cock plunging deep inside him.

“Dean,” Jimmy whispered.

“Cas,” Dean sobbed out, as if in reply.

“Dean,” Jimmy repeated, pressing open-mouthed kisses all over his warm skin, up to his jawline. “He loves you, Dean,” he breathed out, unable to help himself, not even knowing what he was saying, “Castiel loves you. He loves you so much. If only you could feel what he feels when he looks at you.” He thrust in more roughly than expected, more than he had intended, as if his words and the way Dean's body was so open now left him no choice but to do so. “He loves you so, he loves you so much. Castiel loves you, Dean.”

Dean helplessly grasped at the sheets below him, as if he could brace himself against those words and thrusts like that. Jimmy didn't let him, though, clumsily covering his hand with his own free one while rucking up his leg even higher, so that he might get even more of that wet heat. 

“Castiel loves you, he adores you above all, he dreams of this so much, of you soft and willing beneath him, he loves you so much.” He felt warmth rising in himself, almost unbearably, but not yet, not yet. “He loves you above all of humanity, above himself and even above his Father. Because he sees you, sees your soul and the way you – _ah_ –  never stop giving. Because you're so precious and, _unh,_ beautiful. You're so beautiful, Dean.” He didn't even fight against his kisses seeking out the salty trail smudging Dean's cheek, fruitlessly searching for anything to kiss but his mouth, because he couldn't, he was not allowed. “So beautiful, so _precious._ ” Biting the soft skin of his ear seemed sensible, just like harshly plunging into Dean's hole was, and he had to keep the shuddering man below him pressed against himself so that he might not be forced up the bed by his shoves.

“So precious, so precious, so precious...” Jimmy chanted mindlessly directly into his ear, making Dean punch out a wet and wailing call of “Cas, Cas, Cas” in return.

“He loves you so, Dean, loves you, loves you, love you, _hah,_ I love you so, I love you, Dean, I love you so much, Dean, _Dean!_ ”

He noticed nothing more than Dean impossibly tightening around him, calling one last time for the wrong one, moaning so sweetly while Jimmy mindlessly drove into him, spilling himself white-hot, marking his soft insides with a scream that was muffled only by the way he bit into the skin bared before him.

He rode out the wave of his orgasm with tight little jerks into Dean, pressing him as close to himself as humanly possible, his arms an iron grip around him while he forced him to accept every little drop and thrust. And Dean, of course, just took it, whimpering and pushing back. Even as it began to become uncomfortable for Jimmy, and for Dean, who was always so sensitive, surely as well. But they both couldn't stop, groaning in pain and pleasure alike, each lost in their own reality of this coupling. 

Jimmy only stopped when Dean made little whining sounds in the back of his throat, so small and hidden he wouldn't have noticed them hadn't he been kissing it. He slowed his thrusts into Dean's prostate and his body, but didn't exit him, not yet. And Dean didn't tell him to, he just lied there and let himself be peppered with breathless little kisses that Jimmy couldn't help – after all, they would be the last act of affection traded between them, maybe even the last affection they would receive in this life, maybe even the other. He knew that he'd get to heaven for his sacrifice, and Dean would, too, neither he nor Castiel had ever had any doubt about that, but with heaven in its now-perpetual state of disarray, who knew how much of a rest they'd find there.

In the end, Dean sighed deeply and wiggled his hips, in an obvious demand for Jimmy to get out, and so he did. Instantly, Dean tried to roll away, probably to get off the bed and maybe into the kitchen, to fix himself some whiskey, but Jimmy craved for him to stay. To maybe have them both sleep in this bed, to only hold each other, but the moment he grabbed for Dean, the hunter turned around and slapped his hand away.

Even though his features still had some of that softness of orgasm lingering, they were much harder now than only a few moments before. He looked angry, his gaze fixed onto Jimmy.

“Fuck off, Jimmy,” he bit out and rucked up his underwear and jeans, tucking himself in and zipping up his pants, making a last disapproving noise with his tongue, and then he left the room in three big strides, not even taking one last look at the other man.

Jimmy simply remained on the bed, not moving an inch, his hand frozen in the air, his vision slowly swimming.

 


End file.
